by Carian Cole
Lordy. I can feel my cheeks getting redder by the minute. “You are naughty,” I tell him, shaking my head at him. He is so damn playful and hot, but I’m starting to love it.
“Come to my place after your non-date then,” he offers. “I’ll be there, just drawing probably. I’ll show you all my artwork. I have books of it. And we can eat the cookies and brownies that my Gram sent me home with.”
I really need to get back to my dinner, or Tim is going to think I left him here. “Lukas, no. I am going directly home after this dinner, and I will see you at our appointment. I told you I would consider having dinner with you, since you are being so crazy persistent, although I cannot for the life of me figure out why.”
“Because I feel like we’re meant to be together. That’s why.” He shrugs. “Laugh all you want. I don’t care. I felt it the first day I saw you, and I don’t fucking get it either, but you’re like a fucking magnet. I just keep getting pulled back to you. Even when I’m not around you, I can’t get my mind off you. And when I am with you? All I want to do is get closer to you.”
I want to tell him he’s crazy, but I can’t, because I feel the same way. So maybe we’re both crazy. Whatever it is, it’s scaring the hell out of me.
“I really have to go,” I whisper, looking up into his eyes. “And I’m not laughing at all.”
Once again, as I walk away from him, that familiar ache from leaving him comes back.
“I was just about to come look for you,” Tim says when I return. “Is everything okay?”
I sit down and drink some of my wine. “I’m so sorry. My daughter was having some drama that I had to straighten out.”
“I think your food is cold. Do you want me to flag the waitress and get it warmed up?”
I shake my head and pick up my fork. “No, it’s totally fine. I’m so sorry I was gone for so long.”
He smiles across the table. “You can make it up to me.”
My insides cringe. There are not enough ‘nos’ to describe how much that will not be happening.
I force myself to eat. Time drags as we order coffee and dessert, while Tim tells me about his new flat screen television, which he seems way too excited about.
Just as our dessert comes, I look across the room toward the bar to see Lukas saying good-bye to his friends. He looks back at me, does his little wave, and then leaves. Alone.
“You seem distracted,” Tim says.
“No, it’s just a little noisy here. It’s hard to focus,” I reply, but I’m pretty sure he’s noticed me looking over at Lukas several times. Did he really tell me that he thinks about me all the time, or did my crazy brain dream that up?
When we leave the restaurant, Tim asks me if I want to go back to his place, which I wasn’t expecting at all and definitely have no interest in doing.
“No, thank you. I really should get home.”
He looks at me across the dimly lit car like I’m crazy. “It’s not even ten yet. Why do you have to go home?”
“My daughter is home alone. I don’t like to leave her alone at night.”
“She’s seventeen. I think she can manage for a few more hours. Or until the morning.”
“Tim . . . I don’t think I can do that. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t think I’d be taking you out to dinner and then taking you home right after.”
“Really?” I say, annoyed. “How many times have I said over the past few weeks that I wasn’t interested in dating yet? I’m sorry, but I’m just not ready for anything more. I didn’t mean to lead you on.”
He takes his eyes off the road long enough to frown at me. “I figured when you finally said yes that it meant you changed your mind.” He reaches across the car and puts his hand on my leg. On my thigh!
I want to jump out of the car and just get away from him. “No, Tim, I’m sorry. I was just trying to be nice. I thought we could have dinner as friends.”
“Well, yeah . . . but usually there’s a little bit more than that. You know, friends with benefits? You really have no idea what goes on in the real dating world, do you?”
I refrain from telling him to go fuck himself in the real dating world, because no matter what, we still work together and I am still the HR Manager, regardless of my bad decision to have dinner with him, and I’m not going to sink to his level. If the dating world consists of sleeping with people on the first date just for the hell off it, then I want nothing to do with it.
We don’t speak at all until he parks in my driveway, where I thank him for dinner and get out of his car, slamming the door behind me.
“Mom, what are you doing home so early?” Macy asks when I walk through the front door. She and Shelly are lounged on the couch eating popcorn, engrossed in the television.
“It was just a quick dinner with someone I work with. Can I get you two anything?”
They both shake their heads simultaneously. “Okay.” I take off my coat and hang it in the hall closet. “I’ll be upstairs. Enjoy your vampire marathon.”
After a hot shower, I curl up in bed and put a romantic comedy on, realizing that Tommy didn’t call me to say goodnight. I hope that means he’s having a good time with his father, but I also feel a little bit forgotten about. I hate this separation of my family, but it looks like I’m going to have to get used to it.
At midnight, my phone beeps on the bed next to me. Picking it up, I swipe my finger across the screen, squinting at the glare in the darkness of the room. It’s a text from Lukas. I recognize his number now and quickly save it in my contacts.
Lukas: Hey
Me: It’s midnight
Lukas: And? You gonna turn into a pumpkin? ;-)
A smile spreads across my face as I type back.
Me: Very funny :)
Lukas: I wanted to make sure you got home okay. Your date looked like he was either going to bore you to death or grope you on the way home.
Me: Yes to both, but I survived. I came home and went right to bed. Exciting, huh?
Lukas: Same here. Came home, been sitting in bed drawing.
Me: What did you draw?
A few minutes go by, and just as I think he’s fallen asleep, I receive a picture message of a colored pencil drawing of a beautiful girl with long brown hair, her hair blowing to the side and fading into a butterfly wing. It’s breathtaking. The colors are gorgeous, and even viewing it on my tiny phone screen, I can see the details are incredible.
Me: Wow. It’s beautiful. Your talent is beyond words.
Lukas: It’s for you
Me: Really?
Lukas: Yes. I’ll give it to you when I see you at your appointment.
Me: Thank you. I love it.
Lukas: So he groped you?
Awww. Is he actually jealous?
Me: He put his hand on my leg and kinda hinted that he was hoping for more since he bought me dinner.
Lukas: WTF! This is why chicks don’t trust guys. Dinner isn’t exactly a trade off for a blowjob. Not in my book, anyway.
Me: I agree, and this is why I don’t feel comfortable dating. I haven’t dated since high school. That was a long time ago, and things are definitely different.
Lukas: You can trust me, Ivy. You know that, right?
I stare at the phone and his tiny words in the green bubble. Yes, I do believe that he would not rush or hurt me. Even though he’s persistent, he knows when to stop, and he doesn’t get mad or make me feel like there is something wrong with me. That’s what I need right now.
Me: I trust you as much as I can right now.
Lukas: Well, that’s a start. ;-)
Me: I wasn’t exactly expecting all this with you. I just wanted a tattoo. :/
Lukas: You got the bonus plan. And I wasn’t expecting this either.
That shaky feeling comes over me again as I read his words.
Lukas: I felt like someone punched me when I saw you with that guy. Truth.
Funny. That’s exactly how I felt when I saw that beautiful girl wit
h him.
Me: I don’t know what to say. I’m confused by all of this.
Lukas: I am too.
The keyboard beckons me to type something, but I’m at a loss. I feel so much but have no idea how to say it, or if I even should. I feel like I’m playing with fire here, letting him in. The last thing I want to do is lead him on or get myself into something else I can’t deal with, like the mess I created with Tim and dinner.
Lukas: I know the age thing bugs you. I know you’re used to being with guys with short hair and no piercings who have swanky office jobs. I know I’m not what you would ever look for or want.
My throat tightens. It’s true . . . but he is so much more than that. Slowly, I’m seeing that. He’s special. Unique.
My phone buzzes again.
Lukas: Just give me a chance. I’m not a fuckup. I know what I want. Stop thinking about ages and looks. None of that matters.
Me: I have never thought you were a fuckup. Quite the opposite, actually.
Lukas: Good
Me: I should go to sleep. Thank you for the drawing. I can’t wait to see it.
Lukas: Sweet dreams
I toss my cell phone to the side of the bed and roll over, hugging my pillow. It’s still hard to sleep here in this room without Paul. We lived and slept here together for so many years that now it feels haunted with memories of him, like he is going to walk through the door at any moment. I’m starting to believe I really do need to sell this house and start over with new surroundings that aren’t tainted with memories.
My phone beeps again. Shaking my head and smiling, I reach for it, and what I see makes my heart literally jump. It’s a black and white photo of Lukas, lying against a black pillow, his hair falling over half his face. He’s naked from the waist up, covered in tattoos. A large cross hangs around his neck, resting against his muscled chest. He’s got a finger held to his lips. The room is dim and shadowy, and he looks hot as hell. I tear my eyes from the photo and read the word he’s typed in the next text message.
Shh . . .
Rest your mind, my love
I shall see you in our dreams
Open your heart, my love
I shall cherish you always
Shh . . .
There is only you and I
No need to be afraid, my love
Shh . . .
If you stumble or fall, my love
I shall catch you every time
No one has ever sent me a poem before. I read it ten times . . . no, twenty . . . okay, maybe thirty. I love it, even though I’m not sure what it means. I open up the photo again, drawn to the sensuality of it, wanting to be in that bed with him. Of course he has black pillows and sheets; somehow, I knew he would.
I should reply, but what do I say to this?
I poise my fingers over my phone. Do I say something silly to diffuse this, or say something more in line with his romantic flirting?
Lord help me. Tim was right. I have no idea how to do any of this. We didn’t have cell phone flirting when I was dating years ago. Is this why Macy is attached to her phone 24/7? This is so crazy.
Me: Between the photo and the poem, you’ve rendered me speechless. I can’t even think straight to reply.
Lukas: Mission accomplished then. ;-)
Ack! He makes me crazy, and I’m pretty sure I am starting to really enjoy it.
IVY
I TOOK A PERSONAL DAY OFF today, something I haven’t done in years. I thought I could see my hairdresser and get my hair cut and colored, but she’s booked for two weeks. So now, I’m standing in the hair color aisle of the local beauty supply store, completely confused and overwhelmed.
“You just mix two of these with this and put it on,” the salesgirl tells me, handing me three little boxes. “Mix it in this,” she says, handing me a little plastic dish. “And put it on with this.” She throws in a little brush thing. “And wear these.” She adds some black gloves. “Then use this conditioner.”
“That’s it?” I ask, skeptical. “Is it hard?”
She shakes her head of pink hair. “Yup, that’s it. It’s not hard at all. I do mine all the time.”
I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad sign. She kinda looks like twenty things not to do to your hair.
“I’ve never had my hair colored before, not even at a salon,” I say as I follow her to the register, clutching all the products she piled in my arms, and she glances back at me like I’m an alien.
“Leave it on for half an hour then rinse it. Don’t use shampoo. Leave the conditioner on for five minutes. Then just dry it and style like you normally do. Piece of cake.”
Okay. That sounds easy enough.
Next, I stop at the mall and buy a few new outfits and shoes, as well as a cute pair of black boy shorts with red hearts on them. I’m seeing Lukas tonight for my tattoo appointment, and I’m going to agree to have dinner with him tomorrow night if he still wants to. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him, and he continues to send me flirty text messages at all hours of the day and night. Screw the age difference; I’m determined to have some fun for once.
The house phone is ringing as soon as I walk through the front door after my shopping spree. “Hello?” I say breathlessly, wondering who would be calling me at home now, when normally I would be at the office this time of day.
“Hey, it’s me,” he says. “What are you doing home?”
I throw my shopping bags on the couch, annoyed that he had to call today of all days. “How did you know I was home, Paul?”
“I called your office, and your assistant told me you didn’t come in today. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I just felt like taking a personal day off.”
“Hmm. That’s not like you.”
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to talk about Christmas. It’s next week”
“I know when Christmas is,” I reply, kicking off my shoes and sitting down on the couch next to all my new clothes.
“We haven’t talked about what we’re going to do with the kids.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my stomach already burning just from hearing his voice.
“Do you want them on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day? I’ll let you pick.”
Let me pick? “Paul, what are you talking about? The kids are staying with me both days. We’re going to my mother’s house on Christmas Eve, just like we’ve been doing for the past eighteen years, and Christmas Day, I’m making breakfast and dinner, like we’ve always done.” Does he seriously think I’m going to let him take the kids away on the first holiday since this mess started?
“So when the hell do I get to see them?”
“You can see them the day after Christmas.”
His voice rises. “What the fuck? That’s not the same.”
“Well, you should have thought of that before you left us for your girlfriend. Think of the kids for once, Paul. I am sure they will be much happier doing what they have always done on Christmas. They love seeing my parents and getting all those presents.” I press my fingers against my forehead, my head starting to pound. “And where are they going to sleep? Macy said you have one extra bedroom, and it’s filled with Charlene’s clothes.”
“There’s a bed in that room. We just have to straighten it out and put some things away.”
“Okay, you have two kids.”
“Then one will have to sleep on the couch.”
“Neither one of them is going to like that. Why disrupt them on Christmas? Just let them be to get used to all this before you go disrupting even more of their lives.”
He sighs on the other end of the phone. “Fine. This time, we’ll do it your way, but I’m going to talk to my lawyer about a set visitation, holiday, and summer schedule for Tommy. And the divorce. Have you gotten a lawyer yet? We’re going to need to sell the house and divide our assets and money. You can’t just keep everything.”
“I’m not trying to just keep everything. You left.
I didn’t have a choice, remember?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just stressed out.”
I laugh sarcastically. “Stressed out from what? All the fun you’re having with your new girlfriend?”
“Look, this has been hard on me too, Ivy.”
“I’d like to feel bad, Paul, but I can’t because all of this was your choice. The kids and I are the ones who have had to deal with the side effects of your affair.”
“I’m not going to argue with you, Ivy. We never used to fight.” I can’t believe he just said that to me. It’s true, though. Paul and I rarely ever fought the entire length of our relationship. We always talked things over calmly and reached decisions together. Neither one of us were ever the type to get mad and yell at each other. It wasn’t until he started to ‘work late’ that the arguing began.
“Isn’t that strange?” I ask him. “We never fought and were always happy together, yet you still had an affair and left.” I know I should stop making comments, but I can’t seem to control myself.
“Ivy, please.”
“Fine. You can pick the kids up the day after Christmas. You’re supposed to have Tommy this weekend. Are you picking him up today from school? He has a bag of clothes with him.” Macy has decided she doesn’t want to spend alternate weekends at her dad’s house, and I’m not making her. She’ll be going to college soon; I can’t be forcing her to spend weekends with Paul and his girlfriend.
“Yes, I’ll be there to pick him up.”
Biting my lip, I’m not sure if I want to ask him what I’m thinking about. “Paul . . . How is Tommy when he’s with you?”
He takes a few long moments to answer me, which fuels my suspicions that I’m not going to like his answer. “Well . . . he seems confused. He asks me to bring him home a lot. He asks me why I won’t come back home. He’s only seven, Ivy, so he really doesn’t understand what’s going on, but I think in time he’ll be okay. Charlene is trying really hard to be nice to him.”